


Sob Story

by somedayisours



Series: OC-Insert [3]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Gen, Rewrite, SI-OC, Self-Insert, oc-insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 19:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somedayisours/pseuds/somedayisours
Summary: Every story's a sob story. Kurosawa Ume isn't going to save the world, she's going to let it save itself.





	Sob Story

**Author's Note:**

> The original was posted August 2, 2014.

"Name?"

"Kurosawa Ume."

"Age?"

"Nine."

"Years of training?"

"Four."

"Under?"

"Fukui Haruki, Tokubetsu Jōnin."

My eyes never strayed from the shinobi as he recorded my answers onto a sheet of paper with practiced ease.

"Reason?" The man asked, looking up from the paper and into my eyes. "For being here, that is."

I only allowed a small twist of my lips to show my displeasure, emotion was commonly viewed as a sign of weakness, yet it was what was needed in this instance.

"Shishō believed I would be suited for the position that the Mizukage had put out an order for," I replied icily at his scrutiny. "Shinobi under the age of ten with little notoriety." I parroted what had been explained to me a little over three hours before.

Writing more down on my paper he pushed it to the side and produced a fresh one from under his desk for the next applicant.

"Third door on your right."

The next room was as unremarkable as the rest of the building had been, off-white walls, grey vinyl flooring, and decorative landscape paintings. What made this room stand out in comparison to the others were the three plastic folding chairs sat in the middle of the room instead of being pushed up against one of the walls. I had expected it to be more intimidating, and for there to be fewer people present.

Farthest from the entrance to the room, and by extension me, was an older boy with dark hair smoothed back into a neat braid that halted halfway down his back. He didn't bother hiding his reaction at my arrival, turning his whole body around to get a good look at me instead of stealing glances out of the corner of his eyes like most would have preferred to do.

"Applicant?"

I lingered in the doorway for a moment longer than necessary, choosing to sit at the edge of the seat closest to the door yet farthest from the older boy.

Seemingly unbothered by my silence, he continued to speak after a beat. "I suppose it doesn't matter, does it? You look a little too young, anyway."

The glance I took out of the corner of my eye instead of turning to face him full-on like he was doing for me, didn't go unnoticed. He seemed to take my overall body language as encouragement to talk even more.

"Name's Hachirō, you can call me Chirō. I mean, only if you want to, you don't have to—"

It could be that when nervous he spoke to fill the silence, but that conflicted with everything else that I had gathered about him in the few short minutes we'd been in the room together.

Both of us jolted when the door was thrown open with far more force than what was needed, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang I assumed was made with the handle as it probably left a dent in the plaster. The boy at fault stood proudly in the doorway, a condescending smirk dominating his face. That is until he got a good look at the two of us.

"Of fucking course."

Twitching with irritation and keeping my jaw firmly clenched shut, I didn't bother returning his glare.

Hachirō, like when meeting me, did not seem warded off by Makoto's actions.

"So... You two know each other?"

"Not by choice, what do you take me for?"

"An idiot," I interrupted with a sneer.

Hachirō giggled at that, and in such a way that had we not been sitting next to each other, I wouldn't have caught it. It wasn't even a good comeback, but the boy seemed to enjoy the tension between Makoto and me.

"Calls me an idiot," Makoto grumbled to himself, seething.

Abandoning his place at the entrance of the room he stomped towards the remaining chair sat between Hachirō and I. Even with his absence the door hung open awkwardly without needing to be held, the handle seemed to have punched a hole in the wall instead of just the dent I had originally assumed had been made.

The scrape of the chair along the ground as Makoto moved it from between us to across from us, was far from the most grating thing he'd ever done. That didn't make the high-pitched screeching any easier to listen to. With a quick glance out of the corner of my eye at Hachirō, I was able to confirm that nothing seemed to get on that boy's nerves, a gleeful smile still affixed to his face.

Makoto flopped into his newly positioned chair and proceeded to glare at the two of us with his arms crossed tightly over his chest. As if daring either of us to utter a single word.

Hachirō ignored the unspoken promise of pain from Makoto if he didn't keep his mouth shut.

"So, um, what's your name?"

I could practically hear the crickets in the silence that stretched between the three of us.

Without breaking eye contact with Makoto, I spoke: "Fukui Makoto."

"You fucking bi—"

"Oh!" Hachirō interrupted with a glint in his eye, "You can call me Chirō, Mako!"

Makoto's response was nearly priceless, his eyes wide and his mouth opening and closing like a fish. My crackling seemed to draw him back, his jaw audibly snapping shut. His face pinched into an expression that I'd only seen him make when he was well and truly angry, his body angled towards Chirō.

"Listen here—" He changed his target mid-sentence, annoyed with my continued laughter. "Shut up!"

"Why so mean," I taunted, imitating Hachirō's guileless demeanor. "Ma-ko?"

"I said—"

Makoto never got to finish, the same door he'd thrown open so violently not long before was wrenched from the wall with a crack by a Jōnin in full combat gear. "Sorry, you were saying?" She fluttered her eyelashes at Makoto with mock innocence, "I didn't mean to interrupt, you can continue."

Hachirō let out another round of muffled giggles. Maybe he was high on something... Or just hysterical.

She ignored Hachirō in favour of encouraged Makoto again to explain himself with a, "Hm?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter." Makoto grunted, keeping his eyes trained on the floor by his feet.

"Exactly what I thought," She drawled doping all pretense. "Quite a pathetic lot, aren't you?"

At our cumulative silence, she continued on uninterrupted.

"And Fukui—senior—spoke highly of you," She turned to me at this, moving away from Makoto and invading my personal space, forcing me to move back and sit properly in my chair if I wanted to preserve some form of distance between us. "Not a word, mouse?"

"You done yet?" Makoto dragged out a yawn to accompany his question, and while it seemed he was targeting our interrogator his eyes were on me. His leg jumped, giving away how he truly felt beneath this fresh round of false confidence.

"Why, Fukui-"

"I asked you a question," he interrupted with a smirk. "Are you done? Yes or no?"

She shifted to face Makoto fully, her whole body tensed for a fight.

Hachirō, who up until that moment had remained blissfully silent, let out a round of full-fledged laughter.

"I think she gets off on this kind of thing," Makoto continued nonchalantly before the Jōnin could make another attempt at speaking. "Fucking bitch gets all hot and bothered when picking on kids. Sick fuck."

"You're definitely your mother's son." Was all she gave him in response. "Too defensive, but it could work. And you," She turned her head to catch my eyes, "Are you going to freeze-up like that when on a mission?"

Hachirō coughed threw is dyeing laughter, "What do you think of me, Commander?"

If the look on Makoto's face was anything to go by he too caught the sexual edge Hachirō had added to that question.

"Too young for me, too old for this. Get lost, Hachirō."

**Author's Note:**

> Hachirō was named after Kiyokawa Hachirō, who created the Rōshigumi. For those that don't know the story, I'll give you a short summary. The Rōshigumi was a group created by Kiyokawa Hachirō to protect the Tokugawa shōgun from the imperialists, in truth Kiyokawa Hachirō gathered the rōnin to oppose the shogunate government and work with the imperialists. Nothing really came of the Rōshigumi and they were disbanded in under five months. There was some drawn-out distrust but very little came of it in the grand scheme of things.
> 
> This is a rewrite of the first chapter I posted over on fanfiction over five years ago, as time has gone on I found I had little interest in the story as a whole. The intention was to write from the PoV of a Kiri spy in Konoha during the Third Shinobi War, while all so being a reincarnated individual. This is an idea that still hasn't been explored after all these years.


End file.
